


Last Seen

by orphan_account



Series: Tea and Biscuits [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bigs and littles are known, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Past Relationship(s), Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She and Angie had discussed Steve, once, when Angie in her adult frame of mind had simply asked Peggy if she missed him. It was a brief conversation; Peggy hadn’t been inclined to talk about it too much and Angie had seemed satisfied by her answer. That had been the end of it, or so Peggy had thought.





	

“Excuse me, sir, excuse me!”

He took off his policeman’s cap when he saw her, his lazy yet watchful gaze snapping to attention.

“What seems to be the problem, ma’am?” he said, already reaching for the whistle he kept tucked in his pocket.

“It seems…” Peggy Carter took a deep breath, willing her hands to stop shaking. She was an SSR – SHIELD – agent, for god’s sake.

“It seems I’ve lost my little one.”

He’d been leaning against one of the walls, rather casually surveying all the shoppers going to and fro in front of him, but Peggy’s anguished words brought him even more so out of the drudgery of a Saturday afternoon.

“Here then,” he said kindly, and Peggy saw a shine on the nameplate just above his right breast pocket.

“We’ll find him, don’t worry, ma’am. What’s his name? What’s he look like?”

“Oh, well, ah,” Peggy hesitated. She shoved her hands back into the warm fabric of her blue winter coat, an unladylike gesture that her mother had tried to divest her of growing up. It had never worked.

Peggy sighed.

“Her name is Angie,” she said carefully. “She’s around eight. A little bit shorter than me, brown hair and blue eyes. She’s wearing a pink dress with flowers and a sweater… and a grey coat.”

The police officer named Burton looked Peggy up and down, the corner of his mouth curled in dissatisfaction.

“And _she’s_ your little one, you say?”

Peggy took her hands out of her pockets to fold her arms across her chest. “If you don’t wish to help me find her then I can do it myself.”

Of course she could find Angie herself. Hadn’t she been looking for the last thirty minutes? And found… nothing. Maybe Angie had gone home, was Peggy’s sudden thought. But in her little state there’d be no way her girlfriend could hail a taxi and make it across town. Not to mention she didn’t have any change with her; she’d spent her last nickel on a piece of pie at the diner a couple of days ago, and was none too happy that Peggy refused to give her any more to buy a toy.

Burton shook his head. “Got a promotion coming up, I’m not risking it. Where’d you last see her?”

“Well, let’s not get in the way of your promotion then,” Peggy muttered to herself. She knew the chance she was taking, telling someone in public that she was bonded to another woman. In their home or entertaining with other women who had the same “proclivities,” things were fine. But even in a department store like Lilly’s, which catered specifically to the Big and little crowd, being in a same-sex relationship was hardly imagined.

But Burton was waiting, and so Peggy said, “Second floor, the littles’ section. She wanted to go an aisle over and look at the dresses. I picked out a toy for her as a surprise…”

She glanced down at the brightly-colored shopping bag, its handle looped over her left wrist.

“I got her a tea set,” she finished weakly, not even wanting to think of what could possibly be happening to Angie. She’d never wandered off before; Angie’s little state wasn’t so young that Peggy would have to keep a close eye on her, and besides, one of the girl’s favorite things to do was walk up and down the aisles hand in hand with Peggy, looking at absolutely _everything_.

The smile Burton offered her was still thinly judgmental, rather than reassuring. “What color?”

He was humoring her, Peggy knew, as they worked their way up to the second floor in search of Angie. At this point, she didn’t give a damn.

“White,” she answered, her eyes scanning the bustling crowds. “With pictures of littles playing. The box is shaped like a house.”

“Bet she’ll like that,” the police officer said absently. After a few more moments of looking around, he turned to Peggy.

“Well, she’s not on this floor. Hold on.” He detached a walkie-talkie from his belt, and pressed a button.

“Burton, all radios. Stand by for report of missing little girl.”

 _Missing little girl_.

Peggy swallowed, feeling the first frantic pricking of tears in her eyes. Where _had_ Angie gone to? For a split second Peggy had the terrifying thought that someone in Leviathan had gotten to her, as revenge for Dottie.

But they’d been run aground.

Hadn’t they?

“Burton, all radios. Little girl, about five-five, brown hair, blue eyes, pink dress and grey coat. Last seen on toy floor.”

_Last seen._

Peggy drew in a shaky breath. “We will find her, won’t we?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, we’ll get your… _her_ back.”

Well, now she was just angry. Peggy’s hands curled into fists inside her coat pockets. It wouldn’t do to make a scene; she couldn’t very well have her face splashed on the front page of the newspaper for decking a police officer – and being in love with another woman.

Even Howard and SHIELD wouldn’t help her get out of that. So Peggy held her tongue.

And she was grateful, because soon a voice came over the walkie-talkie.

“Donnelly, Burton.”

“Go ahead, Donnelly.”

“Little girl matching that description sitting by herself on the mezzanine. Looks like she’s in front of the ice cream shop.”

Oh, that _had_ to be her, Peggy thought, and she knew she must look deranged when she gave a relieved laugh. The mezzanine was one floor above them, and of _course_ Angie would be sitting in front of the ice cream shop. Hoping, probably, although Peggy still had no idea what was going on.

“Well, there you go,” Burton said, giving her a pleased look, and Peggy couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Mezzanine’s on the…”

“I know where it is,” Peggy cut him off.

“Good. I’d go up there with you but…” He trailed off, and Peggy shook her head.

“Don’t bother, I wouldn’t want you to be any more put out than you already are. Thank you, officer,” she added, probably a little more sarcastically than was necessary.

“Caretaker’s on her way up,” she heard him say over the radio as Peggy sprinted for the elevator.

Caretaker, indeed. _Ugh_.

It seemed to take years for the elevator to make its climb, but finally it slowed and the doors opened with an almost merry _ding_ of the bell. Peggy searched the crowd, and her heart let go of its worry when just across the mezzanine, she saw Angie sat at a small table near the ice cream shop.

Another police officer hovered close by, just out of sight of Angie but keeping his eye on her. Peggy made a beeline for him.

“Can I help ya, ma’am?” he said, with an almost formal tip of his hat, his accent strong and thick.

Peggy liked him immediately, but still, she shuffled nervously and looked down at the floor.

“The little girl,” she said, “She’s, um, well…”

Was it always going to be this difficult? She thought to herself. She was by no means ashamed of Angie or the relationship she shared with her, both as a little and as her girlfriend. (Wife, Peggy had taken to saying to herself, but she hadn’t let Angie know that just yet. Christmas was only just around the corner, and she’d had her eye on a pretty little ring in a jewelry store window for a while…)

But then she felt a tap on her shoulder, and Peggy looked up. Officer Donnelly was grinning at her, and he gave her a wink. She stared at him curiously, and he leaned so he could whisper in her ear.

“Papa’d have my hide if I ran off from him like that,” he said, and Peggy chuckled.

“He and I have something else in common, then,” she said, but her smile faded when she looked at Angie.

The little one had been crying, that much Peggy could tell.

What would the others have thought, Peggy wondered, if they’d walked by and seen a little girl crying, with her daddy (ugh) nowhere in sight?

But worse was not knowing why Angie was upset in the first place. Angie never really _got_ upset, even when she was in her little state, unless she wasn’t feeling well. Peggy smiled again faintly, briefly recalling the night she and Angie had bonded.

Schnapps and rhubarb pie had been a spectacularly bad idea, in hindsight. And Angie had thrown up first. But in between Peggy holding Angie’s hair and rubbing her back, something so much better had happened.  Angie had stared at her, looking at her at once miserable and so trusting at the same time, and Peggy had thought she’d suddenly been given something that had made everything else – especially losing Steve – worth it.

Yet Angie had essentially run away from her.

Peggy was pretty much a failure at this.

“You should go talk to her,” Donnelly was saying sympathetically. “Sometimes I don’t know how to tell papa what’s buggin’ me, but he manages to work it out. I think he’s magic.”

“Maybe he is,” Peggy said, impulsively reaching out to give the offer’s arm a grateful squeeze. “I don’t think I am, though, but we’ll see how it goes.”

Still, she approached Angie with something a little like trepidation, hesitating when her little girl looked up at her. Peggy’s heart clenched when Angie looked down at her brown leather shoes, and didn’t say anything to her. Peggy took hold of one of the other chairs at the table and moved it so that she and Angie were sat close together, their shoulders practically touching.

“Hello there, darling,” Peggy said softly.

Angie was silent for a moment.

“Hi, Mummy.”

Well, that was a start. She was still in her little state, clearly, so it would need working out, indeed, what was bothering her.

“You gave me quite a fright, Angie. Mummy looked for you and you weren’t there, I thought something had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

She wanted more than anything to hug Angie, to reassure herself that her sweetheart was safe, that she hadn’t been captured or worse; but Peggy knew they couldn’t do that. Not here, not in public. It would have to wait.

“I know, sweetheart.” Peggy stood up and looked down at Angie, who hesitated again before she finally stood up.

Peggy gave a furtive glance around the mezzanine; convinced they weren’t being watched, she quickly buttoned Angie’s coat up for her, making sure the little girl’s scarf was warmly around her neck.

“There we go,” she said lightly. “Let’s go home and we’ll talk this through, okay, Angie?”

“Okay, Mummy. … mummy?”

“Yes?”

“Am I gettin’ a spanking?”

“Yes, my love.”

Angie sighed, a little melodramatically than was necessary, but Peggy was used to that, no matter what state her girlfriend was in.

“That’s not _talking_ , Mummy.”

Peggy laughed, which made Angie grin despite the despondent look in her eyes.

“You know Mummy’s rules, silly girl. We’ll talk after.”

The ride home in the taxi was uncharacteristically quiet, with Angie likely thinking of her inevitable punishment, and Peggy thinking of the exact same thing, if she was being honest with herself. This was part of the relationship that she didn’t exactly care for, necessary as it was. But the very nature of who they were had Peggy spoiling Angie endlessly, but also giving her a stern hand – literally – when the little girl sometimes took a turn for the naughty.

Which wasn’t very often, at all, and that made Peggy eternally grateful. Little eight-year-old Angie was teasing and slightly bratty like her adult “alter-ego,” and it was part of what had made Peggy fall in love with her in the first place. In her little state Angie was sweet, happy, and easy to please; the reality of it was that Angie was only ever willfully disobedient when something was wrong.

Peggy was determined to get to the bottom of it, no pun intended.

She finally allowed herself to take Angie’s hand as she led her up the walk to the house Howard had given them, the place they called home. Peggy was rewarded when Angie squeezed; all wasn’t completely lost, then.

“All right,” Peggy said, probably cheerfully enough for it to seem forced, “Let’s get these coats off.”

She pulled off hers, then tugged Angie to her and helped the little girl take off her own. Only then did Peggy wrap Angie up in her arms.

“I was so worried,” she murmured, noting that Angie was stiff in her embrace, likely still anticipating being over her mummy’s lap.

“I didn’t know what had happened to you, I thought for certain someone had…”

She stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“I’m sorry.”

Peggy shook her head and stepped back, moving toward the comfortable armchair with Angie’s hand in hers.

“Down,” she said, and Angie immediately knelt between Peggy’s legs, her eyes fastened on the floor.

Peggy didn’t make Angie kneel during these moments due to any pleasure in it; no, it was simply just easier to look at her – to scold her – when they were on the same level. Angie _was_ a tiny bit shorter than Peggy, but it still didn’t have the same effect when they were eye to eye.

“Angie, you can’t just run off from me,” Peggy said, working herself up to a full-on lecture. “We don’t know what kind of people are out there. I know you like to think of the good in everyone but you’re only a little girl, what if someone had promised you ice cream and then was mean to you?”

“M’not dumb,” Angie said sullenly. “You tell me all the time, don’t go with nobody unless they know our special word.”

Peggy scrunched her face up in irritation at herself.  Carol had said she was ridiculous to expect people to give Angie what essentially amounted to a safe word, but Carol hadn’t seen the things Peggy had. She didn’t have to worry half as much about her own little girl as Peggy did about hers.

“You’re right, darling,” Peggy said, touching Angie’s cheek with her hand. “You’re not dumb at all, my sweetheart.”

“ _And_ you say I can’t have ice cream before dinner, even if it’s my birthday.”

Angie huffed, and Peggy shook her head, hiding her amusement.  This _was_ chastisement.

“Exactly right, and you’re a very good girl for remembering.”

She took Angie’s hands and placed them on her knees, resting her own hands atop them, and leaned forward slightly.

“Angie, I worry about you. That’s why we have our special word: so I can try to make sure you’re safe. Mummy works a very scary job sometimes and I know what people can do to each other. You cannot just disappear and make me search for you, even if it’s just a joke or if you’re angry at Mummy. Because I can’t help but think the worst. I love you so much, and I don’t want anything to ever happen to you.”

Angie lifted her gaze and looked at Peggy, her beautiful blue eyes hazy and troubled. “I didn’t think about it, mummy, I’m sorry.”

Peggy studied Angie’s face for a moment; satisfied that the little girl actually did understand her, Peggy nodded.

“All right, then, darling, up and across my lap, please.”

She settled back against the armchair and smoothed her skirt down over her knees, waiting expectantly. She raised an eyebrow when Angie didn’t move.

“Angie Martinelli,” Peggy said sharply, “You had best do as I say or you’ll be in for an even more smarting rear end.”

That got Angie up off her knees, and Peggy’s heart squeezed a bit when she saw her little girl’s hands trembling as she reached under her dress and pulled her panties down before draping herself over the arms of the chair and Peggy’s lap.

Maybe her rules were a little too much, Peggy thought, as she pulled Angie’s dress up so the little girl’s bottom was bare. She was rather stern with Angie, but they’d both agreed upon all the rules when Angie was in her adult mindset. She was never _happy_ about the spankings, Angie said, but she was all right with them. Just as she was all right with the prescribed bedtime, the “no radio after seven o’clock,” and other rules that Peggy had established. She’d even rather flatly said “Absolutely not” to a couple of things, but Peggy’s embarrassment had been relieved the minute Angie had kissed her in reassurance.

Besides, Peggy knew it was comforting for the two of them to know what the other expected. Peggy expected Angie to understand that her mummy’s time in the military and in the SSR and SHIELD resulted in rules and Peggy being a little obsessive about Angie’s safety. Angie expected that Peggy would play with her and indulge her love of musicals – something Angie couldn’t let go of even as an eight-year-old.

Both expected that sometimes, they would land in their current position.

Peggy rested one hand on Angie’s back, the other on her bottom, rubbing lightly.

“Do you understand why you’re being spanked, Angie?” she asked, her voice firm.

“’cause I ran off,” Angie responded quickly, no doubt eager just to get it over with. “And made Mummy worry.”

“Exactly right. And are you going to make Mummy worry again?”

“I’ll try not to?”

Peggy rolled her eyes. Well, at least she was being honest. Try as she might, Angie wasn’t a perfect little, and Peggy wouldn’t want her to be, anyway.

“Good girl. Eight swats and then we’re going to talk about why you’re upset, all right?”

“Okay, mummy.”

Eight swats were an exceedingly light punishment, Peggy knew, so she worked at making each of them a little sharper than she might normally. But Angie was clearly upset about something, and Peggy wanted to find out _why_.

Angie wasn’t crying when Peggy landed the last two harsh smacks right where the little girl would be sitting, and that was worrisome. The first time, and each time after that, that Peggy had spanked her Angie was nearly inconsolable until after her corner time, when Peggy took the girl into her arms and reassured her that all was forgiven. Even with her bratty nature, Angie was eager to make Peggy happy, and disobedience was a rare occurrence.

The lack of tears was… slightly terrifying.

“Up you go,” Peggy said, shifting to help Angie stand and pull her underwear back up. “Into the corner to have a little think about things, sweetheart.”

She watched as Angie shuffled into the corner and rested her forehead against the wall, a sight that Peggy couldn’t help but think was adorable, even if she still rather hated herself every time she had to punish her little girl.

“You’re not _abusing_ her,” Carol had said to her one day over drinks, when Peggy had nearly broken down over having to spank Angie the night before. “For god’s sake, where’s that stiff upper lip and confidence you British are supposed to have?”

Easy for Carol to say, Peggy had thought bitterly. _She_ spoiled her little girl just as much as Peggy did Angie, if not more. Sometimes they’d compare the toys and gifts they’d bought their littles, just to laugh at how utterly smitten they both were.

Peggy was only a passable cook, but she still busied herself with laying out what she would need to make dinner as she allowed Angie some time to herself in the corner. Five minutes passed before Peggy made her way back to the living room from the kitchen, this time sitting on the couch.

“Come here, darling,” she called, and Angie ran and climbed up next to her. She was still a little stiff as Peggy held her, but not as much. Maybe there was hope, after all was said and done.

“M’sorry I hid,” Angie mumbled, burying her face in Peggy’s chest.

Peggy stroked her hair. “Shh,” she said. “It’s over and done now, Mummy forgives you.” She pushed Angie up to a sitting position.

“But I want to know why you’re so upset you wanted to hide from me. What’s wrong, my darling?”

Angie looked away and Peggy seized her chin with her hand, forcing Angie to look at her.

“Angie, tell me.”

“You don’t want a little,” Angie suddenly blurted out. “Well, maybe you do, but you don’t want _me_.”

Peggy drew back, stunned. Angie thought Peggy didn’t want her? It made Peggy want to throw up.

“What the bloody hell kind of stupid idea is that?” she asked, her tone angry and snappish. She hadn’t the slightest clue what would make Angie even _entertain_ the thought that Peggy wouldn’t want her.

That was decidedly the _wrong_ thing to say, she realized, as now the tears began to steadily flow down Angie’s cheeks, and Peggy’s girl moved to leave the couch.

“No, no,” Peggy said, internally kicking herself. She caught Angie with her hands and gently pulled the little girl onto her lap.

“Angie,” she said, a little alarmed by the violence of the girl’s crying. “Darling, I’m sorry, I should _never_ have said that.”

She really was a failure at this.

She wrapped her arms around Angie and held her close; this time Angie melted to her, clinging to Peggy as if desperate, as if at any second Peggy would let go.

“Darling,” Peggy tried again. “You’re not stupid, Mummy would never think you’re stupid, I’m so sorry. But _why_ on earth would you think I don’t want you?”

Angie shrugged. “You don’t want me,” the answer came, low and wounded. “You want _S-Steve_.”

Peggy closed her eyes briefly. That was the problem, then, after nearly three years together.

Steve.

She thought of him, the blonde all-American boy who had first captured her heart. She thought of his smile, of his laugh, of his strong arms as he held her. She thought of the long conversations she and Steve had had, about life, about love, about bonding. Wondering why they hadn’t.

She’d thought about it a lot after Steve had died. Why was fate so cruel that it wouldn’t grant the one thing that two people most wanted? It would keep her up at night, have her hugging her pillow close sobbing into it, or punching it and throwing it across the room in anger.

Her soulmate had died to save the world.

Fate could kiss her ass, she’d told it more than once.

… then she’d walked into the L&L and met a petite waitress with sparkling eyes, and brown curls under a ridiculous cap.  Angie called her English and served her coffee, just wanting Peggy to _like_ her. Then the hurt in her heart warmed to something like friendship, and, though it took forever for Peggy to admit it, something she’d only known once before. And _then_ , sat on a cold bathroom floor holding those same pretty brown curls back while Angie was sick from pie and schnapps, fate had answered Peggy’s anger with a kick to the head.

Love flooded her like water filling a downed plane and Peggy cried again that night, hoping Steve would understand just how much she needed Angie Martinelli, this _woman_ , her _little girl_.

She and Angie had discussed Steve, once, when Angie in her adult frame of mind had simply asked Peggy if she missed him. It was a brief conversation; Peggy hadn’t been inclined to talk about it too much and Angie had seemed satisfied by her answer. That had been the end of it, or so Peggy had thought.

“What makes you think I want Steve, and not you?” she asked, rubbing Angie’s back and repeatedly kissing the top of her head. She nudged the little girl when Angie didn’t answer at first.

“I c-came back when I was done looking at the dresses,” Angie said.

“Did you find one you liked?” Peggy asked, trying to calm her down.

Angie nodded, toying with Peggy’s fingers before she linked their hands together and held fast. “There was a dark blue one. It has a skirt that flows out when you spin around and around.”

“Oh, I bet you’d look so pretty in that,” Peggy said, kissing Angie’s cheek. “Maybe I’ll tell Santa about it.”

Angie nodded, and Peggy squeezed her in her arms.

“What did you see when you came back from looking at the dresses?”

“You. You had a toy soldier.”

Peggy hummed to herself, remembering. It’d been quite startling, looking at the tea sets and suddenly finding the large plastic soldier, undoubtedly left behind by a little boy disappointed at not being allowed it.

“You looked so sad,” Angie sniffled. “I know you’d rather have Steve as your little boy instead of me. Bet he’d be gooder than me.”

“I’m going to ignore you saying ‘gooder,’” Peggy said with a sigh. “Because you’re upset, and because I know you’re a good girl. And, because I know you’re not competing with Steve.”

How could Angie compete with a ghost?

Peggy shifted so that she was sat up further on the couch, and so that Angie could look at her.

“Darling, I was a soldier, we’ve talked about this. A lot.”

She couldn’t help but regale Angie with tales of her time in the Howling Commandos, she’d loved it so. Even though Peggy knew her time in the SSR and now SHIELD was helping to keep the world safe, she sometimes still felt as if she wasn’t doing enough. As if she wasn’t half as brave as she used to be.

“You miss it?” Angie asked, and Peggy nodded.

“See, you’re a very smart girl.” Angie blushed a little, and Peggy kissed the tip of her nose.

“Mummy misses it a lot, and her friends. Sometimes when I see soldiers, even toys, I get sad.”

“Is it like the nightmares?”

Howard had told her that maybe she needed to talk to someone about it. “You don’t come out of a war without scars,” he’d said. “Even if you were just a pushy dame.”

He’d been joking to make her laugh, and punching him the arm did a lot more for her than talking to a psychiatrist ever would have.

“Sometimes like the nightmares,” Peggy agreed. She was rocking Angie now, something the little girl didn’t usually enjoy – she wasn’t a toddler. But Angie was still clinging to her, so Peggy guessed that this time, it was probably needed.

“But I also just miss the good times we had, when we weren’t on missions. Sitting around campfires eating horrible food out of cans.”

“We do that here, Mummy. Eat horrible food out of cans.”

“Watch it, cheeky,” Peggy warned, but she was smiling, and so was Angie, thank god.

But her blue eyes were still worried as she looked at Peggy. “But Steve—“

“Steve was never my little boy,” Peggy said firmly, deciding that it was beyond time to be honest and actually _talk_ about things, or else Angie would just end up confused and upset again.

“Steve was never going to be my little boy, Angie. I know that now.”

“You could’ve been his little girl…”

Peggy made a face. “I’m not little girl material,” she said. “I think even fate had that figured out.”

She hugged Angie tightly to her. “Fate decided that I was supposed to be a mummy, not to Steve, but to this beautiful little girl named Angie Martinelli.”

“That’s me.”

“That’s you,” Peggy agreed. “Fate decided that even though I loved Captain America very much, there was someone else I could love, someone I _needed_.”

“You need a little girl?” Angie sounded disbelieving, and Peggy kissed her forehead.

“Not just any little girl. You. I loved Steve, Angie, and I miss him. But I love you, and I need you. I will _never_ want any other little boy or little girl.”

Of all the things Peggy hated in the world, it was those moments when Angie wouldn’t say anything. She longed for her chatter, her brightness, in either her little or her adult mindset. If she was being as melodramatic as an actress, Peggy might’ve even said she craved it.

“I need you too, Mummy. I’m sorry.”

“Are we all right?” Peggy asked, using her thumbs to brush the last remaining tears from Angie’s cheeks.

Angie nodded. “We’re all right. Except I’m hungry.”

“Of course you are,” Peggy laughed, giving Angie another hug. “Let’s go change out of these clothes and then we can have some of that horrible food out of a can.”

That night as Angie perched on her pillow (Peggy had rolled her eyes, but indulged) in the living room floor and arranged her brand-new tea set in front of her and her mummy, Peggy once again thought about Steve.

She could see him in his uniform, stood leaning against the doorway, his hat tucked under his arm.

Angie pretended to pour the tea, carefully, no doubt modeling the way Peggy served their own tea every evening when Angie was big.

She could see him look at her, then look at Angie. Watching.

“Mummy? Would you like one lump or two?”

Peggy reached to tuck a strand of hair behind Angie’s ear. She was adorable in her pink and grey striped pajamas, the worry and fear gone from her face. She was content.

Maybe Peggy wasn’t a failure at this, after all.

“No lumps, darling, remember, I don’t like sugar in my tea.”

She could see Steve, studying her, and Peggy smiled. _I love you_ , she thought, _and I always will_. _But Angie is my little girl._

“ _I_ like sugar in _my_ tea. Would you like a cookie, Mummy?”

“Biscuit,” Peggy teased, and Angie grinned. “But yes, yes I would, darling.”

She glanced to the doorway. In her mind, Steve Rogers smiled back.

And vanished.


End file.
